


Percentage

by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hufflepuff Harry Potter, M/M, Tom Riddle's Era, implied Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/Clarisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A silly thing inspired by reading others fanfiction based on the prompt:<br/>L says "20% likely that you are Kira." to Light, to which Light responds by kissing L on the cheek. L corrects himself to "15% Kira." (and it continues like that...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Percentage

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably full of plot holes.

Tom Riddle prided himself on knowing and being liked by all students at Hogwarts, as well as the majority of teachers. Or he did, until he got pointed out for him that he had missed one student. Apparently Albus Dumbledore wasn’t the only one at Hogwarts that refused his charm.

“It’s not such a big deal, Tom.” Abraxas Malfoy complained. “ _No one_ know Hadrian Peverell. As far as I know, he has not spoken a word to anyone since before his first train ride.”

“Which House did you say he is in?” Tom asked, ignoring Abraxas’ comment.

“Hufflepuff.” Antonin Dolohov answered, since Abraxas was pouting. Tom nodded, the only sign that he was grateful for the answer.

“He’s in our year.” Abraxas added, no longer pouting and instead hoping for some attention. Tom blinked at him.

“I missed a student in the same year as us?” he asked dumbly. Luckily, his knights pretended that they hadn’t heard. It was frustrating, but could be understandable as they shared very few classes with Hufflepuff.

“Are you talking about Peverell?” Raphael Lestrange questioned as he joined their group. “I saw him in the library.”

“I’ll be in the library.” Tom said as departing words, and rose from his armchair. The glance he sent his knights made it clear to them that it was completely unrelated to Peverell. It was just a coincidence.

* * *

Tom chose a strategically placed table in the library where he would be hidden in the bookshelves' shadows yet be able to see most of the other students. Already done with his homework for the week, he chose to read a book about the use of transfiguration in duelling.

He had been reading for forty five minutes when someone sat down on the opposite side of the table. Tom lowered his book to see who dared disturb him. His face slid into a carefully blank mask when he realised that his uninvited company was no one else but Hadrian Peverell himself. Few classes with Hufflepuff or not, Tom couldn’t understand how he had missed someone with beauty like Peverell. Jet black hair fell in curls down over Peverell’s back, his skin was dark as coffee with just a dash of cream, and the contrast it made with his vibrant emerald eyes were almost unreal. Peverell looked like a doll, especially with his petite frame.

“How may I help you?” Tom asked, his tone charming and his smile pleasant. Peverell blinked back, and tilted his head to the side.

“There’s a 75 percent chance that you’re the new Dark Lord that the Daily Prophet wrote about.” Peverell said, his voice soft but barely above a whisper. It seemed very likely that Abraxas had been right when he said that Peverell didn’t speak. Tom wasn’t sure if he should be flattered that Peverell chose to speak to him or not.

“Chance? Not risk?” Tom asked, his smile widening slightly. Peverell tilted his head to the other side, probably musing over his choice of words.

“A risk would be if it was anyone else.” Peverell settled on. Tom raised an eyebrow. _Interesting_.

“I assume that you have evidence since you’re confronting me.” Tom stated, the question in his words obvious. Peverell simply smiled instead of answering.

“Any chance that I’ll be able to change your mind?” Tom asked, channeling more charm than earlier. Peverell once again tilted his head to the other side.

“80 percent chance that you’re the new Dark Lord.”

“Oh?” Tom inquired. “I believe the number should be lower, not higher.”

“Then you should try a different tactic.” Peverell- no, _Hadrian_ advised. He had definitely proved himself worthy enough to be called by his first name.

“Any suggestions for how I should try?” Tom asked. It started to annoy him that he knew _nothing_ about Hadrian, because he had no idea which tactic would give him his desired result.

“82 percent chance.” Hadrian answered with a small smile and rose from the chair. He left before Tom could answer. Tom watched as he left. The smile had long since disappeared from his lips. Hadrian Peverell was _infuriating_.

* * *

Now aware of Hadrian’s existence, Tom started to see him everywhere. As it was NEWT year, they shared some classes with fewer students, such as Herbology. Hadrian never looked at him when they were in class, and disappeared into the shadows before Tom could approach. It was a week after their first meeting that they met again; in the astronomy tower after curfew. Hadrian was sitting in the window watching the sky when Tom entered the room.

“You should be in your common room.” Tom said. Hadrian glanced over his shoulder and gave Tom a timid smile.

“I know.” he answered, and looked towards the sky once more. Tom walked up until he was standing behind Hadrian, his chest touching Hadrian’s side.

“I could take points.” he warned.

“You should.” Hadrian answered.

“The stars are beautiful.” Tom said. Hadrian changed position slightly, his back now leaning against Tom’s chest. He hummed noncommittally. They stayed in silence for a while. Hadrian watched the stars, and Tom studied Hadrian. It was… nice. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

“Escort me back to the common room?” Hadrian broke the silence.

“I have to continue my rounds.” Tom said, his lips turning slightly downwards to show his displeasure. Hadrian nodded and slid down from the window, still close enough to Tom for them to touch.

“75 percent.” he said, and disappeared into the shadows before he had even gotten close to the door. Tom stayed in the tower for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. 75 percent of what? Was it still the chance that he was a Dark Lord? Was it something else?

* * *

“I see you around Peverell a lot lately.” Raphael said, the amusement in his voice obvious. Tom looked up from his potions essay.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. Not to mention, he’s in _our year_.” he drawled. Raphael smiled knowingly, which was odd because Tom wasn’t aware that there was anything _to know_.

“He doesn’t even talk to the professors.” Antonin chimed in. “Seven years in school, and you’re the first person he have talked to.”

“That’s only proof of how charming I am.” Tom said, and returned to working on his essay.

“Alphard said that Peverell made _soup_ in their potions class yesterday.” Raphael said after a while. Tom put down his quill momentarily since it seemed like they wouldn’t let the subject of Hadrian die down. The one potions class he miss because he had a meeting with Headmaster Dippet, and Hadrian does something worth noticing.

“I wasn’t aware anyone could make soup from the potion ingredients.” he drawled.

“Oh, he brought ingredients from the kitchen. Bones helped him carry. Amazingly enough, Bones didn’t hear Peverell talk once. The house elves just handed over the ingredients.” Alphard said from behind Tom. Tom couldn’t help but sigh. Apparently he would get nothing done if he stayed in the common room, but he couldn’t deny that it was interesting to hear more about Peverell.

“How many points did Slughorn take?” he asked.

“Oh, he didn’t. Peverell got five points for the soup, and fifteen for the potion that he did at the same time.” Alphard answered. Tom actually turned to look at him.

“He made a potion and a soup simultaneously?”

“It was a Shrinking Solution.” Alphard answered with a shrug.

“You’d think he would be the talk of the school.” Antonin said, obviously impressed. Tom nodded. It was exactly what he had been thinking.

“He’s very good at disappearing.” Alphard explained it away with a shrug. “He’s always doing things in class, and the only way you would know is if you were there.”

“...I’m going to the library.” Tom excused himself. He could only hope that Hadrian would be there. It frustrated him that Alphard was more aware of Hadrian than he was. How could he possibly have missed a person that actually made soup during potion class?

* * *

He found Hadrian not in the library but on the way up from the dungeons. To be more accurate, they almost walked into each other.

“Soup?” Tom questioned. Hadrian shrugged.

“I missed lunch.”

“Doing _what_?” Tom demanded. Hadrian smiled at him.

“Feeding thestrals.” he answered, as if it was one of the most exciting things one could possibly do. Tom blinked at him.

“You can see them?”

“I assure you, it would have been extremely odd if I couldn’t.” Hadrian said. Tom felt as if there was a secret that he didn’t know, and found himself desiring to know it.

“Who are you?” Tom asked. His frustration slipped through his mask. Hadrian tilted his head to the left.

“That’s a good question.” he hummed. “Your equal, I would hope.”

Tom bit his tongue to not brush the idea away rudely. He would definitely consider if Hadrian could be his equal.

“What percentage am I on?” he asked instead of commenting. He didn’t ask of what. Hadrian tilted his head to the other side.

“84 percent.” he answered after a moment, and slipped away into the shadows. Tom could only wonder what question Hadrian had answered.

* * *

They continued to meet up a few times every week, be it by accident or because Tom actively sought Hadrian out. Every time Hadrian left he would give a different percentage, the lowest being 58 and the highest yet being 92. Tom wasn’t sure what would happen when it would get to 100, which seemed likelier every day. His current percentage was 87, and he had no idea why. He had stopped wondering what Hadrian gave the percentages for.

Time suddenly seemed to slip through his fingers, because before Tom was actively aware of it, he was alone in the Slytherin dorms for winter break.

* * *

It was after curfew on Christmas Day, and Tom was wandering the castle. He had seen Hadrian in the distance a few times, but not during a single meal. He had started to wonder if he was hallucinating that Hadrian had stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays. Therefore he was shocked when he found Hadrian standing next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor.

“Happy Christmas.” Hadrian greeted him without looking at him.

“Happy Christmas.” Tom answered, his voice not higher than a whisper. Hadrian looked ethereal in the darkness, the moonlight coming through the window the only source of light.

“I have a gift for you.” Hadrian said, and turned his head so that he looked towards Tom. His face missed its usual small smile. Tom shivered at the sight.

“I have nothing for you.” he apologised. Hadrian’s lips twitched, as if they couldn’t decide if they should form into a smile or not. It looked like something out of a horror novel. The moonlight gave the illusion of a transparent skull, or perhaps that Hadrian had transparent skin. Tom entertained the thought that he could have compared Hadrian’s skin to porcelain, had Hadrian not had skin like coffee.

“I know.” Hadrian said simply. The words echoed eerily in the corridor. Tom took a step closer, yet his self-preservation told him to turn around and leave.

“Who are you?” he asked, echoing the question from when they had walked into each other weeks ago. Hadrian’s lips twitched again.

“What a coincidence that your gift is the truth… Perhaps I should have told you before you asked your only question.” Hadrian mused with a small laugh. It reminded Tom of rattling bones.

“What are you?” he breathed out, his eyes wide but his face otherwise not showing any emotions. Hadrian tisked.

“You’ve already asked your question, Tom.” he said. “I’m Hadrian Peverell. I’m Harry Potter. I’m your equal, the chosen one, the boy who lived and lived and lived… The Master of Death. Though you might be more interested in this… I’m your Horcrux. Or I was. Will be.”

Tom couldn’t utter a word. He felt frozen to the spot. This had to be a dream. He watched as Hadrian turned to leave, as Hadrian melted into the shadows.

“100 percent.” Hadrian’s voice echoed in the corridor, followed by the laughter of rattling bones.

* * *

The next time they met was at breakfast the next day. Hadrian sat down next to him with a serene smile. It was as if they had never met yesterday, and Tom grew more convinced that it had been a nightmare.

“Join me for a walk?” Hadrian asked, and they left the Great Hall together to walk around the lake. No one else was outside. Snow must have fallen during the night for the grounds were white.

“Did yesterday happen?” Tom asked after they had walked in silence for a while. He needed to know. Hadrian blinked innocently at him.

“I definitely remember Christmas Day being yesterday, and today is not Christmas Day, so it must have.” he said with a soft smile. It was a non answer, and Tom didn’t know if he should interpret it as a yes or as a no. He decided to take it as a no. Hadrian was too innocent for the ethereal being he had met yesterday.

“What percentage am I on?” Tom asked, just to make sure.

“99 percent.” Hadrian answered with a bright smile. Tom swore he could see Hadrian’s skull through the coffee coloured skin. He was proud to say that he didn’t run away.

* * *

“How are you a Hufflepuff?” Tom asked one evening. He had found Hadrian in the astronomy tower again. The term had started once more, and most of his time was occupied with studying for his NEWTs. This was the first time in a month that he had found time to talk to Hadrian.

“I’m very patient.” Hadrian answered. “Loyal, too. I like to believe that I’m kind and fair as well… definitely unafraid of toil.”

“Loyal to whom?”

“Myself.” Hadrian answered. His smile remembered Tom of the twitching lips from Christmas Day.

“Why not Slytherin?” he asked.

“A lack of ambition and self-preservation.” Hadrian said with a noncommittal hum. Tom studied him for a moment. As he noticed Hadrian’s face coming closer and closer, he realised he was the one leaning forward. Tom wetted his lips. Hadrian slightly tilted his head to the side and separated his lips. Tom took it as an invitation and closed the distance between them. Hadrian’s lips were soft underneath his. He sucked experimentally on Hadrian’s lower lip before he drew back.

“I don’t know why I did that.” Tom admitted. Hadrian smiled at him.

“I’m sure you will figure it out.” he said, and kissed Tom’s cheek. “90 percent.”

* * *

Graduation day came out of nowhere. It were the night of the end-of-term feast, and Tom couldn’t remember the last time that he had seen Hadrian. He found himself searching the Hufflepuff table over and over again in hope to find the mysterious boy.

“You’re obsessed.” Abraxas pouted from next to him. Tom shot him a glare.

“Brax is right.” Raphael chimed in. “You’re always looking for Peverell, or disappearing to spend time with him.”

“You are?” a voice said from behind Tom. “I didn’t know.”

Tom turned around to see Hadrian standing behind him. Antonin moved over a seat so that Hadrian could sit down next to him, without Tom having to say anything. Hadrian gracefully sat down in the empty seat.

“You didn’t know what?” Raphael asked with amusement. Hadrian smiled at him.

“That Tom is always disappearing to spend time with me. We haven’t seen each other in over a month. He was too busy with NEWTs, and I was too busy with being me.”

“Then where did you disappear to?” Abraxas asked.

“None of your business.” Tom answered at the same time as Hadrian said “To be a Dark Lord.”

Tom turned so that he was looking towards Hadrian, and absentmindedly noticed that Raphael cast a simple ward around them to secure that no one was eavesdropping.

“I thought I was on 65 percent?”

“75.” Hadrian corrected. “Though you have to remember that I specified that the percentage was for the new Dark Lord only the first time we met. Any time after that… the percentage have been for other things. For how much I hate you, for how much I want you closer, for how much I love you, for how much I loathe loving you… the list goes on and on.”

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.” was the only thing Tom could say. Hadrian laughed, and it didn’t sound like rattling bones. Tom couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Dark Lord or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“I’d hope so, since you’re my equal.” Tom answered. “I’m stealing you away as soon as the train stops in London.”

“You do that.” Hadrian answered. “I’m 55 percent sure that you’ll succeed.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, and leant forward to kiss him.

“70 percent.” Hadrian corrected when they broke apart. Tom leant forward to kiss him again.

“65 percent.” Hadrian said, and left the Slytherin table before Tom could kiss him again. Tom allowed himself to smile. 65 percent… he could work with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hadrian making soup in potions class is inspired by a tumblr post.
> 
> Anyway. I'm unsure about the ending, but I didn't mean for this to be longer than a few hundred words. Really just wanted to be done with it.
> 
> My main motivation behind this was "if I suspect someone and they kiss me, I'm going to suspect them /more/ not /less/".


End file.
